Had it been any other situation
by Remyx
Summary: It's finally come to World War III, and with the static powers consisting of three people who don't like each other much, will they be able to beat the dynamic powers? Rated for gore and eventual USxUK
1. Chapter 1

Had it been any other situation, Arthur would have been scolding _himself_ for the myriad of vulgar words slipping past his lips. It was often the Englishmen swore when he was livid due to the fuss the other nations forced him to put up with, but the amount of _physical_ pain making itself horrendously apparent in his shoulder was outright ridiculous. "_Fuck…" _The word crawled up from his throat for the umpteenth time. _"_Bloody _hell, _fuck _him."_

The hole in crevices of his collar, just underneath the bone, was screaming agony thanks to a combination of depth, and profuse bleeding. When the bullet had actually broken through his body it had felt like dull burning pain isolated in one area alone…however, when he had to _pry_ the foreign object out, that was when he wanted to lay down and die, or break Ludwig's face…whichever came first. Those course of events are what brought him to his current situation still trying to scrape the bullet out of his fresh wound. Had it not been for the rag in his mouth providing him relief and protection from grinding his teeth into stubs, he would have screamed something awful. Then again, he was Arthur Kirkland…England; he recalled having worse.

The British nation swore a final time as the infiltrating object in his shoulder finally clattered to the ground near the neatly compiled puddle of blood. Fresh rivers of crimson ran down his arm, adding more to the lake of red fluid. "Git…waste of a bullet really." He snorted clutching his open sore.

"It succeeded in giving you a good deal of trouble, mon Angleterre." A smooth voice sounded from the wall connecting the living room and kitchen.

"Shut up frog."

"Sil vous plait Arthur, I came to help you." Francis smiled holding up a needle and thread. Arthur mentally swore bracing for the new wave of pain about to course through his weakened body.

"Fine…make it hasty. I know your sewing skills wine tasting bastard, so if you slow down so much as a quarter of a second-"

"You talk too much." The Frenchmen made his way inside the kitchen, eyes almost popping out of their sockets when he came into realization of how much blood his ally and long time enemy had lost. "Mon Deiu Angleterre! How much blood is still in your body?"

"Do you think I know you idiot? Stop gawking and sew the rest in so I don't lose anymore!"

Francis sighed kneeling next the wound gingerly slapping Arthur's hand away from it, and receiving a disapproving grumble in return as he poked the first stitch through. He could feel his friend shaking slightly, he predicted, either from blood loss, or sheer pain. "Anyways Arthur, are you going to enlighten me on why you have a hole in your chest, or am I going to have to force it out?" As the words were still leaving Francis's mouth, Arthur felt a slender finger trace up his blood covered torso to the line of his jaw, just coming to a stop at his lips.

"Don't you dare!" He shuddered scooting as far as his injury would let him, while Francis had managed to penetrate Arthur's skin with the first stitch. It wasn't a horrifically large wound, but a deep one.

"Oui, oui." Francis chuckled respecting the other nation's space for once. "There, you're finished. Better?"

He nodded curtly. "Much."

"The bleeding stopped."

"So I've noticed." Arthur sighed leaning back to get some well deserved rest before he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.

"Don't. You're not allowed to sleep until we know you have enough blood to do so."

"Tell me when you were you in charge of my affairs?" The former empire snapped rolling his shoulders until a satisfying crack sounded in his neck.

"Since you proved too irresponsible to handle your own matters."

"Frankly, I would rather be torn in two then to have you rule my actions Francis."

The Frenchmen seemed unscathed by England's insult to his leadership skills as a smirk painted itself on the soft features of his face. "Je t'aime beacoup." He laughed blowing the other nation a kiss.

England finally spoke after a long pause. "Scratch that, I would rather tear you in two."

"Ah you say that, but you called me for help mon Angleterre, when you could have called anyone else. Amerique I suppose?"

"Don't be ridiculous, really no one has your stitch skills…least of all Alfred."

"How flattering that you think that of me."

"Don't push it you twat." The Brit slumped against his cabinets far too agitated and overworked to move from his newly found comfort spot on the floor. "If you must know, it was Germany."

Francis's heart sank as the words sank into his conscious. "Ludwig did this to you?"

"Indeed. He had the heart to speak to me after I hit the ground."

"…pourquoi?"

"He said it was a message…I should relay it to you and Alfred. That and I refused to partake in his ludicrous plot to take over."

"Again, I'm touched that you care enough for me to stand by my side mon amour."

"Again, you're taking everything to sentimentally. I agree with your concepts, not _you_."

France sighed finally lending his hand out so that England could use it to pull himself off the floor. "How are your wounds fairing Francis?"

The romantic winced as if he had just recalled the pain he was faced with from the previous invasion Germany had forced onto him. "It's still difficult to walk…"

England actually looked slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry for your discomfort."

A sad smile looked unnatural on Francis's face. "Merci. It's alright…I've been speaking out against it-"

"Speaking out? _Speaking_ out? Francis, where is your military?"

"Sil vous plait….Arthur please. I'm too tired, and far too old to fight something bigger then myself. I don't want to account for pointless bloodshed right now. Even if I did put my military up, what point would it serve?"

"Save your excuses. They're for the weak. This situation calls for bloodshed no matter what way you look at it. Ludwig is killing you Francis. Bloody_ killing_ you, and you're not going to put up a fight?"

Francis looked at his feet. He knew Arthur was correct in his accusations, but he wasn't one for war, he never was. War destroyed things, it didn't sing melodiously like the music two lovers made on cold nights when the house was left to only the two of them. It didn't glow like a brand new field of flowers bidding their good mornings to the arriving spring. It most certainly didn't breathe life at all, and Francis didn't like it. "Judge me as you will, it's still not your war."

England scoffed shaking his head. "It certainly is now isn't it?" He pointed to the freshly stitched wound.

"Oui…I apologize again. Alfred should be here soon. He was outraged ranting on the phone almost insanely when I spoke to him last."

"About Germany's invasion in your territory? He would be…the idiot. He tries to hard to pursue freedom for all when he can't even hold up his own economy. He has no time to be focusing on you."

"Agreed, but I'm very appreciative for any extra aid."

"Well you have mine."

"_Merci."_

"You're welcome. What time was Alfred supposed to arrive?" England asked all too knowing of America's antics. Alfred had always been passionate about helping others in the pursuit of freedom, however he'd run his mouth more then he would swing his fists. He was _always_ late.

A quick glance at the clock and Francis sighed defeated. "Around a half an hour ago."

"As to be expected. It's likely that he's been stopping to eat a burger ever mile."

"_Oui."_

It wasn't until another grueling half an hour later the American country arrived. England was puzzled as to how Alfred could have been his former charge when he was so inconsiderate, so improper, and so childish. "Sorry guys I was late."

"By a bloody _hour_ you git!"

"I see you're letting your age catch your mood Iggy."

"Shut…the _hell_ up.

France cleared his throat breaking their intensely escalating argument before it become too much weight on his delicate heart. "Monsieurs please have a seat so we can discuss the matter at hand."

The Brit and the American sat across from each other, strained by the will to tear each other's throats out. "Merci." The Frenchmen sighed in relief. "Now, we all know why what we're discussing, so it's crucial that we-"

"Yeah, that German bastard took you over, right Francy? Well he doesn't know who he's messing with! You guys are lucky to have the hero on your side."

"America, it's terribly rude to interrupt when someone is speaking in the first place. Secondly, a war isn't something to parade about, especially at this time. Your economy is a mess as is." England pointed out, dearly hoping that his point had gotten through to America's head. "_Such a thick skull to protect that tiny thinking space."_

America crossed his arms signaling the beginning of an indignant speech. "How is that any of your business? I'll be fine. I've done well on my own for two hundred and twenty four years without any of your help."

That stung somewhere in England's chest, and not where the bullet had hit. "Fine, I was only warning you. Try not to be late into battle."

"I wasn't that late, and I'm here now aren't I? I didn't have to come to your rescue at all."

"To my rescue? _Please_, rescuing me would require someone to put a restraining order on you for me."

"You know what you moody old man-"

"Excusez moi, but I don't even want to go to war." France interrupted crossing his arms as a slight pout made its way onto his lips.

"Don't you want your independence back though? Don't you want to be free?" The American nation asked in disbelief.

"Oui, but do you think that I really have a chance against Germany?"

"That's why we're going to help you!"

"I suppose…" Francis replied reluctantly.

"Francis…" England interjected, " if we don't fight Germany he will continue to take over countries while he gathers allies. God help us then."

* * *

Ivan plastered a cheerful smile over his face and replied in the same demeanor. "Of course I'll join your side ермания."

Germany grasped the Russian's hand tightly sealing the pact that would most likely bring end to the rest of the world. "Ausgezeichnet."

* * *

Words to know:

French: Mon Angleterre - My England

Mon Deiu - Oh my god!

Oui - Yes/ okay

Je t'aime beacoup. - I love you much.

Amerique - America (Hope some of you got that one on your own.)

Pourquoi? - Why?

Mon Amour - My love

Merci - Thank you

Sil vous plait - Please

Monsieurs - Polite way of adressing a male.

Escusez moi - Excuse me

Russian: ермания - Germany

German: Ausgezeichnet - Excellent

British (slang): Git - The equivelant of calling someone an idiot or annoying.


	2. Chapter 2

Ludwig had been anticipating this turn of events ever since the rest of the world had kicked his people to curb and completely forgotten about the pain inflicted on them by the burdens they were forced to bare. True, the Germanic nation liked being peaceful for a period of time. It was nice not to worry about anyone's affairs but his own, and it was heartwarming the way other nations admired his talents in organization for peace and worldly affairs. However, that time was passed, and if he ever truly wanted to be happy, he would have to earn back his old iron fist in order to even become equal to the others…though equality was something he wasn't seeking out.

He wasn't shocked when he heard that the Englishmen he'd so joyfully shot _had_ in fact relayed his message to Francis and the American, or that they had soon after, joined in an alliance they were now calling the static powers. He was impressed at their level of cooperation together, but even more so surprised that the American had not sided with him. Couldn't Alfred see he wasn't truly free? Being observed over his shoulder by the others who were in the previous world wars, to verify that he was not making any nuclear arms, it was utterly ridiculous. Then again, Alfred was indeed an idiot. The Brit, and himself could agree on that alone, so perhaps it wasn't so radical that his position wouldn't be understood. Then why hadn't England joined his side? They were both Anglo-Saxon after all, and he knew Arthur hated France as much as he used to hate the jewish.

"Their loss." He thought trying to keep some of the bitterness out of his thoughts.

He was gracious now that he had Ivan on his side. He knew that if America did take pitty on France, he would need someone just as ambitious as himself to fight along his side. Ivan had purpose similar to himself, but what made the Russian better was that no one had ever taken him down alone. He was far too cold hearted, and withdrawn from the cruel world he had grown up in. Being in a catatonic state he supposed, would be a lovely dream and goal to have if it brought you power like Ivan's.

Germany clenched his fist remembering the promise he was forced to give in return, and the same promise that would have to be broken after the war. He wasn't quite sure how he would win. He had promised that he would help Ivan's cause to "unite the motherland" after it was done and over with. The last time he had betrayed Ivan on their agreement to break Poland into equal shares, was his downfall. Though, he had to admit that he had held his own while he could, so maybe there was a chance.

He brushed the thought away and continued walking through the blistering heat and wind to find the residence he was looking for.

"It is scorching da?"

"Indeed."

"I miss the winter back home. It was more comfortable then this horrible weather da." Ivan huffed childishly when he felt a drop of sweat trickle down his neck tickling his collar bone before it was absorbed by his jacket.

"I warned you to bring something light." Ludwig rebottled in a matter-of-factly tone. Not that his advice would have helped much; he was sweating as much as Ivan was.

"How do you think Zaid-san lives in this mess?"

"Well it is his country, so I'm sure he's use to it like you're used to your frigid environment."

"But biting surroundings are so pretty da." The words rolled out of the Russian's throat like a five year old too content with life to care about anything else, but the purely evil aura radiating from Ivan was something straight from hell.

"Depends." Ludwig quickly spotted a medium sized house within the mess of sand, dirt, and city, which all seemed to blur into one yellow, orange, and….well, Iraq. He noted that though the house was located in a beaten down neighborhood most likely from the destructiveness of the war on terror Alfred had so intelligently entered, Zaid's house was nicer among the others. It looked cleaner, and more inviting then the rest of the war stricken country. He knocked sternly three times, standing patiently and waiting for an answer since he couldn't make out the shuffling of wind thanks to all the chaos the wind decided it would bring.

Germany could just barely make out the words "Come in." after a long pause and he swung the door open cursing the dry wind in his native language and apologizing for the force that was used on the wall to buffer the door.

"It's alright friends, please sit." The Iraqi nation motioned to the unwelcoming wooden chairs seated next to a matching wooden table. The others did as told thanking their comrade for the hospitality.

"How do you live here da?"

Germany cursed for his ally's rude interrogation. Then again Ivan had leeway to be rude to anyone considering his size and power.

Zaid grinned slightly amused at the worn and heated look his acquaintances were sporting. "You are simply used to the cold friend."

"It's so much nicer though. You should join me so you could know it." Ivan laughed as if asking another country to join him was something he did everyday, which was somewhat true.

Iraq frowned suddenly becoming serious, almost frighteningly so. "What is it you want men?"

"Alliance." Germany spoke out before Ivan could make the situation any more awkward then it was. Though Ludwig, and Ivan had history from past alliances and quarrels, they had never meant with the stoic middle eastern country before. Nearly all of the conflict left in that area was forgotten or ignored to the greater parts of the world, and if anyone, Ludwig knew what it was like to have cries of help unanswered so he could understand the country's cynicism to the rest of the world.

"I cannot help you Sohabi. I am in a war of my own."

"Which has now become our own cause. We now all face the same enemy."

"The infadel? What has brought this?"

"Misunderstanding, miscommunication, and regret."

Zaid nodded as if contemplating his next words wisely, which he was. The information the German had relayed to him was so clear, but there were bits and pieces missing. Still, any help against the Americans was appreciated, and perhaps needed. The time had come to move forward for Allah.

"Tell me more."

* * *

If the British nation would allow himself to spill tears he would at about the moment France decided to delegate his life. Letting America stay for only a night was a trivial thing to cry over, but the migraine Alfred was causing was something worth committing suicide. "Why must he touch everything?" His thoughts screamed causing his head to pound incessantly.

"Hey Artie, you look peeved. Is it finally your time of the month?"

"You're really quite vulgar for thinking of me in such a fashion. I prefer to keep my thoughts profound, and you'll do the same while you are residing in my house."

The more stubborn of the two rolled his eyes. "You mean you _want_ me to think of you that way. Seriously, I know I'm undeniably hot, but I'm still your brother."

That struck a nerve Arthur had been hiding for years, and much like Roderich displayed his emotions on the piano, Arthur showed with his fists. _Slap!_

Leaving the annoyance that had forced its way back into his life somehow, England curtly walked back into the comfort of his bedroom choosing to leave his former charge without an explanation or even a word.

Knowing England's mannerisms from past experience Alfred had observed that the Brit only acted out when it was necessary and when the other deserved it, thus leaving him to feel a little less than a hero. Still, he couldn't help but feel that the stinging sensation in his cheek was a bit overboard considering how hard Arthur could hit when he was the slightest bit peeved. Alfred winced when he thought of how hard a backhand from him would be if he was really angry. Then again, it's what made Arthur a powerful ally.

Unlike him however Alfred was still graced with teenage adolescence which meant he was far too awake to even be remotely tired…or maybe it was the unnaturally large consumptions of coffee that he downed every day. How much had it been this time? Eight cups? He was hopeless like an alcoholic in a beer factory.

Leaving himself no other choice, thanks to his uncreative mind and short attention span he picked up some of the dignity that Arthur had slapped out of him off the floor, and left to England's room to see if he could make amends at least until the next time that they bickered back and forth into a never ending cycle that had been circulating since 1776.

"Iggy? England?" He called to the older nation with no reply. He peered into the dimly lit room spotting England peacefully curled up in a tight ball and sound at rest. He smiled to himself not really knowing why and gently sat by England chuckling as the nation stirred in his sleep muttering something inaudible about fairy dust. "Night Arthur." Alfred tucked both of themselves into the sheets taking painstaking measures to assure he didn't wake Arthur. He had slept with his former caretaker before, so he hoped he wouldn't mind in the morning.

* * *

**Words to know:**

**Arabic: Sohabi - Friend**

**Infadel - Derogative term used for Americans, often by Iraqis.**


End file.
